


Sick Day

by iduna



Series: Whose Stupid Idea Was This, Anyway? [12]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Healing, Sick Character, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 03:59:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18328193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iduna/pseuds/iduna
Summary: Carys is angry. Cullen is sick. You know how this works, right? She's a healer first and foremost,Oh, and Jim makes his debut in our saga, because his actual job is not cock block.





	Sick Day

**Author's Note:**

> She's a healer. She's not going to let him suffer. I have to let these two be nice to each other occasionally.

Varric was sitting by the fire, shooting the shit with one of Josie’s runners, when ~~he saw~~ Carys stormed up the stairs in Haven. Her hands were balled into fists, looking like she was going to punch the next person she saw.

“Hey, Dodgy,” he called out. “Looking for someone in particular, or have you been taking lessons from the Seeker?”

“Where is he? That back stabbing, lying, two faced Chantry fucking, Templar bastard… Have you seen him? We need to have a conversation, he and I.” She skewered the dwarf with her eyes. “If I find out that you’re covering for him…”

He held up his hands and tried to calm her down. “Whoa there. Which Templar bastard? We have more than one.” He took a breath, “Wait, are you talking about Curly? What did he do now? Need to have a seat and tell Uncle Varric all about it?”

“Uncle Varric?” Carys snorted, but her shoulders relaxed, ever so slightly. “I’m not a child, Varric. He’s… He promised me that mages would be safe here, and he lied. There are Templars that are making… suggestions to my mages. Disgusting, vile, reprehensible suggestions, and I will not allow it to continue. How could he let this- If he doesn’t stop it, immediately, I will.”

“Dodgy, I doubt he knows. If he did, well, he’s a gentleman. He may have not done much to stop a lot of things in the Gallows, but if a mage trusted him enough to let him know that they were being abused like that, he always acted. That I’m sure of.”

Carys chewed on her bottom lip. Varric recognized it as her tell that she was seriously considering what he said. Quietly, she asked, “How can you be so positive?”

Varric smiled, “Hawke’s sister, Bethany, was in the Gallows. Curly is the one that took her there, when we were in the Deep Roads. Anyway, she told me. He may have looked the other way with the mages being made Tranquil and the other bullshit that went on, but he never allowed a Templar to take advantage of a mage like that. She and Curly were friends, kind of. Bethany would make sure he found out, and he did what he could to make sure it stopped. It still went on, but not after he found out. It was the one line that he never crossed. He’s not going to start now.”  
  
“You said that you were going to stop it if he didn’t.” Narrowing his eyes, he asked, “You planning to kill some Templars?”

Laughing, Carys answered. “Don’t be silly. A tincture of senna mixed with a distillate of prunes and ginger… It’s hard to importune women for sex when you’re in the privy shitting your guts out.”

Varric laughed as well. “That’s impressive, Dodgy. You have a vicious streak that I didn’t know about. Remind me not to be your enemy.”

“Don’t piss off the healer, Varric. There are worse things than dying, and I know what most of them are.” She sighed, reluctantly, “Do you know where he is? I may give him a chance to fix this before I dose him and his minions with something terrible.”

“Last I saw, he was in his cabin,” Varric said, pointing down the stairs. “Try there.”

 

Standing at the door of the cabin that Cullen shared with Rylen, Carys knocked again. She could hear someone moving around inside, but there hadn’t been an answer. She hesitated, thinking about whether to just walk in or not, when a thud and a muffled grunt made up her mind for her.

She opened the door and called out. Moments later, the stench of sickness assaulted her senses, and she strode in. This was familiar, she though. This she could deal with.

Sitting behind a make shift desk in an old rickety chair was the Commander. His head was bowed, and his hair hung limp and lifeless over a pale forehead. Eyes smudged with shadows, his features were almost skeletal in the dimly lit room.

“Commander,” she said. “You’re ill again. Can I help you?”

He tried to rise, and she caught him as he stumbled forward. Unable to support his weight properly, she helped him topple backward into the chair. “Maker’s ballsack you’re heavy. Don’t try to get up. I can’t lift you if you fall. Where is Rylen, I can…”

“Mmm fine, Herald,” he mumbled.

“Nug shit. You can’t even stand. Let me…”

“I don’t need….” He vomited on her shoes.

“You, Serah, are a liar.” She punctuated his retching with the undeniable fact.

He needed to get that damn armor off, and he couldn’t do it himself. She also needed to get him to the bed. Clean up the floor, open a window… she needed her herbs and potions…

He was going to hate this, but Carys had no choice.

“Stay here,” she commanded. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

Carys ran to the door and opened it, yelling at the first runner she saw. “You… What’s your name?”

“Jim, your Worship.” He answered. “Jim of Sothmere.”

Carys smiled at the lad. “Well, Jim of Sothmere, I require your assistance. Do you know where Ser Rylen is? Or Seeker Pentaghast?”

He snapped a salute. “Ser Rylen is in the Tavern, Miss er- Herald. I saw the Seeker head to the Chantry not half an hour past. Can I fetch them for you?”

The tavern was closer. “Find Ser Rylen and tell him I need him here. Then, I want two buckets of water and some towels. Can you remember that?”

Jim smiled proudly. “I can. Lady Montilyet sometimes asks for me by name, I remember things that good. Ser Rylen, then towels and water.”

“Very good, Jim. Now when you get that, come back here and knock on the door. I’ll have a list ready for some other things I’ll need. Thank you for helping.”

“My pleasure, Herald. Commander said that I’d like as not cut me own foot off in a battle, but I can run.” Jim took off, yelling over his shoulder. “Glad to help, though!”

Carys chuckled softly as she headed back into the cabin. She shut the door and headed toward the window. She spoke as she lifted the pane. He was too sick to really pay attention but would help him to hear a voice.

“I’m opening the windows, air the place out a bit. Then, once Ser Rylen gets here, he can help you out of that armor and into bed.”

The chair creaked and she spun to look at Cullen, trying to rise.

“Put your ass back in that chair, Ser. If you fall face first into that puddle of puke, you stay there until help comes. I can’t pick you up by myself, and quite frankly, you’ll deserve it.” She continued to circle the room, opening windows and looking for some ink and paper to make a list with.

“I don’t know how the Templar Order managed to survive this long with idiots unwilling to ask for help when they’re sick. Always a fucking fight, healing them. Maker’s Shiny Ass…” She crossed the room and bent over the desk to write. “Is there some sort of contest with you people? A betting pool to see who hurts more before falling over? At some point someone’s going to have to explain it to me.”

The door opened and in walked Knight Captain Rylen. Taking in the scene before him he said, “Y’know, Cull, I told you to ask for more of those headache potions. This is what you get for not listening to me.” Smiling at Carys, he added, “Daft arshole, right, Herald? Good man, but he’s worse than a child at taking care of himself.”

Carys didn’t bother to reply to the question.  The answer was obvious. “I’m glad you’re here, Knight-Captain. I need him out of that armor and on the bed.” She pointed a finger at Cullen. “No arguments from you, or I’m getting the Seeker. I’d wager that she’d not be happy that you let yourself get into this state, will she?”

If anything, Cullen went even more pale – but he was already bordering on goose-shit green.  She handed Rylen a folded piece of paper. “This is a list of things I’ll need. That runner, Jim, will be bringing water and towels. If I haven’t returned by the time he gets here, give him this list. I need to get my bag and change my boots. It won’t take long.”

“You,” she said, skewering Cullen with a look, “Had better be out of the armor by the time I get back, or I’m cutting you out of it with a bottle opener. No arguing, no balking. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. You choose.”

With a smirk at his commanding officer and a nod to the head, Rylen replied, “I’ll see it done, Herald.”

She strode to the door and opened it, sparing a single glance back at the men in the room. “Thank you, Knight-Captain,” she said, before walking through and closing it quietly.

 

 

She hurried, tossing various medicaments and sundries from sponges to cleaning solutions into her bag willy-nilly, without much thought, and barely remembered to latch her own door before she sprinted back across Haven with her spoils.  Upon her return, she found Cullen sitting in a chair next to the bed, in a shirt, breeks, and stocking feet. Rylen was busy cleaning the sick off the floor.  “He’s supposed to be on the bed.” Setting the bag on the desk, she added, “I would have done that.”

“Aye,” he answered. “I ken ye would have, but the Old Man insisted. He seems to think you’ve been bothered enough.”

“Really? Enough for whom?” She asked, giving Cullen a puzzled look. She opened her bag and took out a pouch of tea, and two bottles. “You need to get over yourself, Commander. I’m a healer. You aren’t the first man to vomit on my boots, and I’ll wager you’ll not be the last. Asking for help when you’re sick is _less_ trouble for me than when I walk in and find out for myself.”

She handed Cullen a small bottle with green liquid in it. “Take this. Knock it back quickly. I haven’t found a way to make it taste better. Just pretend you’re Bull with some of that nasty shit he drinks, and you’ll be fine. It will take the edge off until I can make you a proper tea.”

He looked at Carys with a bit of skepticism penetrating the haze in his eyes, and took the cork out of the bottle. He grimaced and retched again as he sniffed the liquid inside.

“Just drink it, ya daft twit,” Rylen says. “She dinna tell you to nose it, it ain’t wine, she told ya to pour it down your gullet.”

“But…” Cullen started.

“Don’t be such a damn baby. Take yer medicine like a good boy and be done with it, or I’ll do it for you.” Shaking his head, Rylen laughed. “Worse than a bloody recruit, you are. Always whining.”

A knock on the door interrupted his scolding. “Do as you’re told, Old Man. It won’t get any easier if you piss off the healer.”

Opening the door, Rylen let Jim and a serving girl into the cabin. Jim carried a tray with two pitchers, two tea pots, a plate, a bowl, and several cups on it. The serving girl’s tray was laden with bread, soft cheese, jam, honey, and a tureen with soup. Carys stopped what she was doing and walked over to the table where the trays were deposited.

“Thank you so much,” she said, smiling.

The girl dipped her head and sped out the door without saying anything, meeting her eyes, or, from the looks of it, taking a single breath. Jim, on the other hand, beamed proudly.

“Anything else you need, Yer Worship? I can go fetch you something else if you need me to.”

Carys shook her head. “Thank you, Jim. This is wonderful.  If I need someone, I’ll ask for you by name, if you don’t mind, but I won’t need you again this evening. Go, tell Flissa to pour you an ale. My treat, and one for the girl with the other tray, if she’d like. You’ve been a big help.”  The lad actually bowed, and backed out, like she was royalty.  Carys, rolling her eyes, turned to the kettle.

“I’m about to use magic to heat up the water,” she called out. “Don’t smite me or anything.”

Rylen laughed out loud. “Was that necessary, Lass?”

Carys smiled as she answered. “I’ve always found it helpful to let Templars know when there is magic afoot. Some of them are… well, a bit twitchy. Better safe than sorry.”

“Well,” he said. “I’m not going to smite you, and I don’t think that the Old Man here could do it even if he wanted to. You’re safe. Do what you need to do.”

Carys laughed, “Good to know.”

When the water was hot, she made two pots of tea. The first was a mixture of Catnip and Ginger; the second was made with Rose hips.  Putting the lid on the second tea pot, she turned her attention to the food on the plates.

She cut a slice of bread, spread some of the cheese on top, then added a dollop of jam. She took the plate over to Cullen. His hands shook as he took the plate and she gently steadied them.

“You need to eat a bit of something. This will be easy on your stomach. When you’re done with that, I have some tea for you to drink. The first is just made with ginger and mint. I’ll add some honey to sweeten it, if you like. The combination will help you keep the food down.”

She continued talking as she went back to pour the tea. “The second is made with Rose Hips. It will help with the headache, but it will also be what I pour the tincture into. A little bit of honey and you won’t even know it’s in there. The tincture will stop the pain and help you relax, then we’ll see if you can stand a bit of soup.”

After she finished with the first cup of tea, she turned back around. She was happy to see that he was chewing a bite of the bread. “How’s it taste? Not bad, huh? I always loved bread with cheese and jam. Every time they’d send me to the kitchens, the cook would give me some to eat before she’d tell me what to do. ‘You’re too thin,’ she’d say. ‘Eat up. Can’t have you falling into the fire.’”

When Cullen finished the bread, she took the plate and headed back to the table. She poured the tea, put in a spoonful of honey, and headed back toward him. “If you need more honey, just let me know. I’ll add as much as you want. The ginger can be sharp, so don’t be afraid to ask.” She kept her running commentary, as if he were actually listening, hoping it would help distract him from his own pains. “Did you know that honey can heal as well?” She took the empty plate out of Cullen’s hands and replaced it with a cup of tea. “It can help digestion, but you can smear it on wounds to help healing.”

“I didn’t know that,” Cullen answered, his voice less hoarse this time. “I don’t need more honey. Thank you, what did you say was in it?”

“Catnip and Ginger Root. Most people don’t know that Catnip is a mint.” She turned back toward the table. She poured a cup out of the second pot and added five drops of the tincture. “When you’re ready, I have the second cup,“  she said.  “No hurry, it’s still pretty hot, and you’ll need to drink all of it. It’s the one with the actual medicine in it. Then we’ll see if you want some soup or just a bit more bread and cheese.”

Inhaling first, then taking a long drink from the cup, Cullen could feel himself starting to relax. It didn’t surprise him that she was a good healer. What surprised him is that it started to work so quickly. He wasn’t sure about eating some soup, but he could easily see himself eating another slice of bread.

Thinking about it, he drank some more tea. It was the first thing he’d had in days that actually tasted good. Well, this and the bread. Who would have guessed that bread with cheese could be so satisfying?

Before he knew it, the cup in his hand was empty, and Carys… no the Herald, his respect was slipping with familiarity, was handing him a second cup. “Make sure you drink all of this one. It has the healing tincture in it. It’s potent, but I want to make sure you get the full dose. Then, more food if you want it.”

“After you eat,” she continued, “You’re going to take off the shirt, lay on the bed, and I’m going to see if I can get your muscles to relax with a massage.”

The teacup clattered against the saucer as he tried to put it down.

“You’re going to what!?”

“Massage… with essential oils. It will help you relax and get to sleep. Lavender, Chamomile, and Dawn Lotus in a Spindleweed carrier oil, if you’re curious. The fragrance is relaxing, and the massage will help unknot the muscles and help you stay asleep longer.” Carys smiled. “Sleep is good. I can give you a soporific, but I’d rather not. The massage is a better way, and you look like your shoulders are trying to swallow your head as it is. Clearly, we have some muscle tension going on there.”  She rushed right into the next topic.  “Bread or soup?” She asked, not realizing that her words had thrown the Commander into a full-blown crisis.

“Without a… Why do I need…” He continued to sputter long after he lost his ability to form words.

Carys turned and faced him, puzzled. This wasn’t the part that she thought he’d have a problem with. He took food and drink from her without batting and eye. Massaging sore muscles was going to be the sticking point? _I don’t think I will ever understand Templars,_ she thought.

“Do you want the oil to stain your clothes?  Massage works best if it’s skin to skin. I can feel better where you have the tension and manipulating the muscles will be easier. I will be using a little magic, but only to warm the oil. Cold oil on the skin isn’t helpful in this type of healing. I can avoid using the magic of course, if it makes you uncomfortable…”

“It’s… I’m…”

“Oh, wait… Leliana told me about this. Is this one of those Ferelden things? Bodies are embarrassing… That kind of thing? If it’s that, you need to get over it. I can’t heal you if I can’t touch you.”

“Bread,” Cullen said.

Carys spun around and looked at him with her head tilted to one side. “What?”

He smiled. “You asked bread or soup. I’d like bread.”

“Okay. Good. I’ll get it for you.”

 

An hour later, Cullen found himself shirtless, and face down on his bed, the Herald of Andraste sitting beside him, and massaging warm oil into his shoulders.

It was bliss.

It started innocently enough. She used magic to cool her fingers and rubbed her fingers through his hair. The sensation was numbing, and comforting, and indulgently safe. He thought, just for a moment, that he could get through the rest of the massage without risk of an embarrassing movement or noise.

She took her hands away from his head, and he felt the familiar tingle of magic in the air. He then felt the warm, velveteen feel of her hands on his shoulders. Pressing, kneading, gliding hands; thumbs working into muscles hard with tension, and strong, firm fingers tracing his back in luxurious circles. Her palms, slick with fragrant oils, ran along his spine, bones shifted, making sharp, cracking noises, and he was lost in the sensation.

His mind, freed of constraint, remembered that day a couple of weeks ago, when he walked in and saw her in next to nothing. Her hair, freed of its customary braid, fell in waves down her back. Her chin was tilted slightly upward, revealing that place where her jawline met her neck, and he imagined kissing her there. One hand, entangled in her hair, the other resting on her lower back. He thought of that place, where her back merged into her buttocks…

In his imagination, he pulled her closer, and as he drifted off into the Fade, his last conscious thought was that looking at her across the War Table just became that much more awkward.

He really didn’t care anymore.

 

 

Ginger tea, stomach upset.

Catnip tea, insomnia, headaches, and anxiety

Rose hip tea, analgesic, detox, inflammation reduction

**Author's Note:**

> I have no self control, and I want kudos. All the Kudos and comments. I needs them. They are the precious...


End file.
